


Anniversary

by elfin



Category: Brimstone
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 03:31:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12334626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfin/pseuds/elfin
Summary: On Lucifer's anniversary....





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neverminetohold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/gifts).



‘I hate this place.’

Zeke missed the mug in surprise and poured boiling water over his hand. ‘Jesus!’ He didn’t have to look over his shoulder, he could feel the heat of the Devil standing behind him, hot breath on his neck.

‘Never met him. After my time.’

‘Don’t creep up on people like that!’

‘You’re not people, Zeke, you’re a walking corpse. My walking corpse at that.’ 

But Lucifer took a step back and Zeke managed to pour the water into the mug without further incident, hesitantly sniffing at what should have been coffee. And still was. In the past, he’d made coffee and ended up drinking gasoline, sewage and worst of all, green tea. Turning, wary, he watched his erstwhile boss walk over to the window and look out. He was dressed all in black; black silk shirt over black dress trousers. It was a rare sight, surprisingly. He was usually flamboyant in his clothing, seemed to enjoy flirting with different styles and mismatched colours.

‘Late for a dinner date?’

‘Dressed for the occasion.’

He sounded distant, distracted. Zeke didn’t like to take the bait under normal circumstances, but this time he was intrigued. ‘What’s the occasion?’

‘The anniversary of my casting out of heaven, my fall, my descent from grace. Whatever you want to call it.’

Zeke sat down in the threadbare armchair. ‘What do you call it?’

‘The day my father disowned me.’

‘You know, I wasn’t there but I heard rumours you tried to start a war.’

The Devil spun to face him, anger blazing in his expression. Zeke swore he glimpsed fire in the grey eyes. ‘I questioned him. Just once. I questioned the true meaning of his omnipotence and his self-proclaimed love for us, for his original children. He turned against me. He threw me out.’

He released the breath he’d been holding. There was, without a doubt, a hell of a lot of residual anger there, even after so many millennia. ‘Sorry.’

Lucifer turned back to the window. Putting down his mug on the barely there carpet, Zeke got up, crossed to stand at the Devil’s side. ‘When you say you hate this place, you’re not talking about Los Angeles, are you? You’re talking about Earth.’

‘One city is much like another. Granted, LA is more my style than… well, anywhere else, but everywhere there’s human beings there’s corruption, violence, blasphemy.’

‘I thought you’d love all that. It’s right up your street isn’t it?’

‘Well, yes. But under it all is the absolute, wanton abandonment of His love, squandered, stamped underfoot.’

‘Not everywhere. Men fight wars in God’s name.’

‘That’s even worse! That’s the embodiment of irony: bloodshed in His name. And what do my followers do in my name?’ Out of the corner of his eye, Zeke caught Lucifer glancing up at him.   
‘Slice snakes in half and sacrifice virgins.’

The moment of lightness broke the dark mood, and literally the room seemed to get brighter. He didn’t know what possessed him, but he put his hand on the Devil’s back, silk warm under his fingertips. He was so caught up in his own thoughts, his own curiosity, it was a moment before he realised Lucifer was staring daggers at him. He dropped his hand away like he’d burnt it, cleared his throat and for some reason grasped at the next stupid thought that came into his head. ‘Do you ever… indulge your followers? Turn up, make a scene, give some random instruction.’

Zeke waited, and when no reply came he risked a glance across at his companion. There was a curious look on the Devil’s face; eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed. ‘Only once.’

‘What? Really?’

‘Really.’

‘Why?’

‘It… backfired.’

‘Backfired how?’ Usually Lucifer loved to tell a story, weave a tale of warning, anything to wind Zeke up before setting him off in the direction of yet another wayward soul. But instead of spilling, he paced over to the back wall of the room, returned, paced again. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Trying to decide if telling you is going to put me at a disadvantage.’

‘How would you - the Devil, Satan himself - telling me – a lowly dead human – anything, put you at a disadvantage?’ Then he remembered the afternoon Ash made them both look like fools, although Lucifer had definitely come out worse in that fiasco. He stopped pacing and regarded Zeke suspiciously.

‘Promise me you won’t mention it ever again if I tell you.’

Now he really wanted to know, but that was a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. ‘It might… slip out.’

‘Promise me, or I won’t tell you.’

‘Ever is a really long time.’

‘You can’t imagine a long time, Ezekiel, you can’t comprehend anything beyond a lifetime.’

‘I promise I won’t mention it for the duration of a my lifetime. Or… death time.’

With a heartfelt sigh, Lucifer moved to sit in the armchair Zeke had vacated. ‘It was the early 1500s. At a monastery outside Cambridge, England.’

‘A monastery?’

‘Of course. Bored monks make up the majority of my loyal flock, up here and down below.’ Zeke didn’t believe him, but it was a relief to hear a note of the old, familiar pride and arrogance in his voice. ‘May I continue?’

‘Sorry. Please do.’

‘Thank you. Monastery, England. One hot summer night.’

‘Are you taking the piss?’

Lucifer smirked. ‘I’d been watching them for some time, from afar, and they weren’t bad. They were sixteenth century monks, they knew how to worship. They’d built a church to me in the basement of the monastery. They’d been “summoning” me for months.’ He actually used his fingers to draw parenthesis in the air, which made Zeke smile. ‘So one night I decided to give them what they’d been so diligent in asking for. I put on a show; the tail, the eyes, the forked tongue. The brimstone and hell fire. 

‘The flames caught hold of the cloths in their makeshift church. The smoke got into the main building above. My devotees burnt to death. My father’s devotees all died in their sleep from smoke inhalation. No fire alarms in those days. As you can imagine, He wasn’t pleased. He put one back, saved his life. And that lone monk with his horrendous scars went around preaching His word to anyone who’d listen. Won him more worshippers than a rally in Texas.’ 

Zeke burst out laughing. It wasn’t that story was funny. There was nothing to laugh at in a monastery full of monks dying in a fire. But something in the way Lucifer told it, something in his tone, just lifted the weight that had been in he room since his arrival. The Devil was who he was, but Zeke enjoyed his company nonetheless. He couldn’t help himself. 

‘Remember your promise,’ Lucifer warned. ‘Never ever mention this again.’

Pulling himself together, Zeke nodded, ’Right. Never. Ever. I promise.’

‘Don’t even think about it.’ 

Strangely, there was a lack of conviction in the warning, and it took Ezekiel across the room to stand over the armchair. ‘Feel better?’

Lucifer sucked in a deep breath, but dropped his head back against the chair and nodded, his grin wide. ‘You know what? I do.’

‘Good.’ Sticking out his hand, Zeke waited until the Devil wrapped his long fingers around it before pulling him to his feet. ‘Seeing as you’re dressed for dinner…?’

‘Now that, Ezekiel, is an excellent idea.’


End file.
